The Dragon and the Wolf
by aka Arashi
Summary: Years after the war, Azula is on the run, hunted by the Avatar and her brother, but her greatest threat lies behind an unassuming smile and a pair of intelligent blue eyes. Sokka/Azula
1. White Lotus, Black Sword

**Author's Notes: **This story is set after Rufftoon's Water Tribe AU comic. If you love Avatar and haven't read her comic on dA, you're missing out. But you don't need to know what happens to enjoy this story.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Avatar nor am I making money off this. My only reward comes in the form of feedback.

**Summary: **Years after the war, Azula is on the run, hunted by the Avatar and her brother, but her greatest threat lies behind an unassuming smile and a pair of intelligent blue eyes. Sokkla - Future Fic.

**The Dragon and the Wolf**

**Chapter One: White Lotus, Black Sword**

A hooded man placed a tile in the center of the Pai Sho board. The old man across from him smiled. "I see you favor the white lotus gambit. Not many still cling to the ancient ways."

"Those who do can always find a friend," the stranger replied in a low voice that hid as much as his dark attire. He shifted and his black cloak slipped, revealing the hilt of a sword. If the old man noticed the weapon he gave no indication.

"Then let us play."

Without hesitation, the old man placed a tile and his mysterious companion placed his own. Within moments the board was filled with a symmetrical design in the shape of a flower.

The old man grinned and put his fist to his open palm. "Welcome, initiate. The White Lotus opens wide to those who know her secrets." He nodded and two men stepped from the crowd in the tavern and stood behind the cloaked stranger.

"It's him," the old man said and they clamped their hands around the cloaked man's arms, pulling him to his feet.

"You're ours now, Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe. Don't resist and we won't hurt you."

One of the men pulled back their prisoner's hood in triumph. A dull looking earth kingdom citizen with a trim goatee gave them a blank smile and spread his hands innocently.

"Wait, this isn't him!"

A sick crunch punctuated his exclamation and the man dropped without another sound. His partner pushed the decoy aside and grabbed his sword, facing off against a different cloaked man whose famous black blade was bared for the world to see.

Hooded shadows concealed half of the swordsman's face, but his white, toothy grin stood out against the deep tan of his skin and the dark brown scruff on his chin.

"The real Sokka is taller _and_ better looking than that guy. Get your facts straight next time you try and set a trap for me."

The traitorous Pai Sho player scrambled to his feet and made a run for it but he didn't make it far before a flash of blue connected with the back of his head, toppling him to the ground.

"I'll deal with you later," Sokka told the unconscious man as he caught and sheathed Boomerang, never taking his eyes off his opponent. "So you gonna stand there all day? Or are we gonna dance?"

The man growled and rushed forward, his sword held high for a downward thrust that would have bisected the Water Tribe warrior if it had connected with flesh. Ordinary steel impacted with otherworldly metal and the black blade passed through with minimal resistance.

The man stared at his ruined weapon and looked up into the face of his defeat. Sokka tossed back his hood and smiled wolfishly.

"Please tell me that wasn't your whole plan."

Chairs scraped against the wooden floor as the rest of the patrons in the tavern rose to their feet, half of them pulling weapons from under tables or cloaks while the others lifted their bare hands threateningly.

The disarmed man backed into a firebender's stance and smirked. "Our master didn't underestimate you, if all you're worried about is your ego."

Sokka kept his sword trained on the firebender as he slid into a more defensible position, taking in the room full of enemies and calculating his odds. He snorted and grumbled the ironic parting words he'd said to his friends earlier that week. "No, no guys, I don't need backup. I can take care of it all by myself."

"Try not to damage him too much," the firebender reminded the others as they boxed him in.

Ignoring the orders, two edgy firebenders stepped forward and launched a pair of fireballs. Sokka kicked up the Pai Sho board and ducked behind it, muttering an apology to Iroh under his breath as it ignited. He grabbed the legs of the table and hurled it with all his might into the center of his foes. Men dodged the flaming furniture and Sokka dashed straight for the nearest exit.

"Stop him!"

Four armored men stood between him and the door and Sokka spun, avoiding a fireblast from the first. His cloak whirled and the skull-helmeted firebender didn't see the black blade until it cracked his mask in two.

Blood erupted from the man's broken nose as he staggered back into one of his companions, and Sokka's forward kick dropped them both.

The next firebender side-stepped his fallen friends and attacked with fists and feet, agile despite his armor and more intent on bludgeoning than bending. Sokka blocked a flaming punch with his forearm and their steel bracers clanged and scraped together as the bender pushed against him and intensified his flames.

Like a wave giving into the shore, Sokka stopped resisting and ducked, letting the man's arm pass above his head. He uncoiled and smashed his gauntleted fist into the firebender's unprotected jaw, lifting the man from his feet with the force of the blow.

The last firebender did the only sensible thing he could think of and lit the wooden tavern door on fire to try and stop the outnumbered warrior from escaping the building.

Sokka pulled up his hood without breaking stride and shoulder slammed into the man, sending them both tumbling through the burning wood.

His cloak caught fire and the Water Tribe warrior rolled to his feet and pulled it off in one fluid motion, wrapping it around his latest foe and leaving the man to flail helplessly in the flaming fabric. Firebenders poured from the burning building, hot on his trail, and Sokka darted down the first alley he came to, hoping The Universe was on his side for a change.

It wasn't.

"Why is it always firebenders?"

There was no answer but the roaring of flames and Sokka dove for cover, rolled to his feet, and sprinted for all he was worth away from the new contingent of men on his heels. Barrels, boxes, and everything else in his path became his tools, but for every enemy he downed, more swarmed to take their place.

The former Fire Nation colony was supposed to be a neutral zone, open to both Earth Kingdom and new Fire Nation citizens, but everywhere Sokka turned men and women shouted and gave chase.

But it wasn't the first time an entire city had been out to get him.

Sokka jumped and grabbed a rain gutter, grunting as he pulled himself up to a second story ledge. He wasn't nimble like Suki and Ty Lee, but what he lacked in flexibility he made up for in strength, determination, and creativity. Or at least that's what they kept telling him over the years to make him feel better.

Space Sword made short work of a set of brass shutters and Sokka stepped inside the darkened room and tripped over the windowsill, displaying a stunning lack of agility. Something sliced through the air where his head would have been and he thanked his inherent clumsiness as he smashed the flat side of his blade into the legs of yet another attacker.

"How many of you are there!?"

He didn't wait for an answer, scrambling to his feet before anyone else could jump him from the shadows.

Fire split the darkness and Sokka threw himself out of the room. The building had an inner courtyard and he vaulted over the banister and landed, feet first, in an elaborate rock garden. It was all he could do to avoid hitting the stones and there was nowhere to roll to diffuse the impact.

His left shin throbbed and he stumbled, catching himself on a boulder.

"Great idea Sokka, land on your bad leg."

His old war wound always chose the worst times to act up, though Sokka knew he had no one to blame but himself. The Universe giggled and he took one limping step and knew he was in trouble.

The stomping of booted feet filled the air as men filed into both levels of the courtyard. Sokka hobbled to the center of the rock garden and leaned his back against a man-sized boulder, catching his breath as armed men approached him cautiously.

He chuckled. "You guys ever heard of a fair fight?" He drove his sword into a head-sized rock to free up his hands and reached inside his tunic, grinning. "Yeah, me neither."

He pulled out a handful of small metal objects and lit their fuses with a snap of his fingers. He couldn't take credit for his spark gloves, since he'd invented them based on the Rough Rhinos' explosive expert, though Sokka liked to think he'd improved on the design.

He tossed one handful to the left and one to the right and the resulting explosions sent men and earth flying. Sokka stepped forward and grabbed his sword, catapulting the rock he'd skewered at one of the central support beams.

"Pseudo-Earthbending SLICE!"

Wood splintered and the floor gave way under the weight of armored men. In all the confusion, only a few of them stayed focused. Sokka caught a spear under his arm and twisted, pulling his attacker off balance and swiftly pinning him to the ground with his own weapon.

"You guys might just want to give up. I'm sure your boss will understand when you come back empty handed."

"I'm sure she wouldn't."

The voice sent chills down Sokka's spine but there was no time to react before two fingers jabbed the small of his back and sent a different kind of energy shooting up it.

She grabbed his wolf's tail and held him as electricity coursed through his nervous system. His back arched and he howled as his limbs convulsed and his hands clenched involuntarily, his right steaming around the handle of his sword.

"You lose," she whispered in his ear as the last of the current danced over his body, bringing with it the smell of burned flesh and singed hair and melting fabric. She let go and he buckled and collapsed to his knees but managed to stay upright by sheer force of will, head bowed as though in prayer to merciless gods.

"Seems you're finally showing the proper respect. You belong on your knees, peasant."

The men formed a loose circle around them, keeping their distance as their master stepped into Sokka's view, her stride slow and purposeful as though she had all the time in the world.

"It's been a few years," she said, conversationally, checking her nails before fitting him with a look of intense disregard. "I see you haven't changed much."

His lips twitched and he pulled them back into something resembling a smile, showing teeth outlined in blood.

"How you doing, Azula?" His voice was raw but steady. "Still crazy?"

There was a flash of rage in her amber eyes and she lunged for him. Her men cried out in warning but nobody could have saved her if she hadn't regained control of herself. Space Sword hovered an inch from her unprotected abdomen and she let her eyes drop to the tip of the black blade she'd almost impaled herself on.

She lifted her gaze to blue eyes as piercing as any steel. They both smiled.

"Very clever."

His arm shook from the effort and he lowered his weapon to the ground in defeat.

"Can't blame a guy for trying."

"I've always liked that about you." She smirked. "It must be annoying to be the only one in your pathetic little band of do-gooders who knows how to end a fight."

She leaned forward and took the sword from his hand. He didn't resist or flinch, even when the damaged skin tore from his burned palm and fingers. She wiped the handle on her cloak and held his famous sword so she could inspect the perfect blade.

"This will make an excellent addition to my collection. They say your sword has no equal."

"It's not the quality of the sword that makes the swordsman."

"Too true," she replied. "Pity this sword didn't have a better master. Perhaps I'll find it one?"

Sokka barked a laugh and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. "Well, you might want to hire outside help if you're looking for a decent swordsman. Your henchmen were disappointing."

"They were, weren't they?" Azula let her disapproval show as she scanned the ruined courtyard and the men and women who were still picking themselves up and helping the injured.

The man who'd been giving orders in the tavern stepped forward and bowed his head. "We're sorry, Princess. We won't let you down again."

She rested Sokka's sword on her plated shoulder. "Oh, I'm sure you will. But hopefully you can manage to get one defeated warrior back to my ship."

"Of course, Princess."

She turned and stepped through the line of former Fire Nation soldiers. The men closed in around Sokka but he kept his eyes on Azula and his sword until they disappeared from his view. He pulled his attention back to the circle of angry men and grinned cheerfully, holding up a hand. The men stopped with blunt weapons and fists poised in the air.

"One request, guys." He gestured from his chin to his forehead. "Not the face."

The officer smiled coldly and his speeding fist was the last thing Sokka saw.

------

**Author's Notes 2: **Just so nobody calls me out on it, yes I know Sokka lost his weapons in the end of the series. He found them. :)

**Thanks for reading, don't forget to review!**


	2. The Blue Dragon

**Author's Notes: **Thanks for the positive feedback and reviews!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Avatar nor am I making money off this.

**The Dragon and the Wolf**

**Chapter Two: The Blue Dragon**

The sound of the slap echoed in his ears and Sokka wondered why his brain had betrayed him to consciousness. Someone groaned and it took him a moment to realize the sound was coming from his own throat.

"Nice of you to finally join us."

"I like being fashionably late," he said, or meant to say, but his jaw throbbed and the words came out sluggish and garbled.

"We don't get many guests on my flagship, so I suppose I should welcome you aboard."

"The Blue Dragon." He pried his eyes open as far as his injuries would allow but the world was all dancing light and blurred shadows. Wincing, he dropped his gaze and focused on things closer at hand. Ropes bound his wrists to metal armrests and he'd been stripped of his arms and armor.

"That's what my men call it, but I have no use for the name."

One of the shadows stepped forward and Sokka squinted up at his captor.

"You know," she said, "it wasn't easy to infiltrate the White Lotus and lure you into my trap. You must be wondering why I bothered."

He smiled, unconcerned. "I've never bothered trying to figure you out, Azula." Leaning over, he spit a mouthful of blood and something white bounced away on the metal floor. "Aww," he mumbled and probed his mouth with his tongue until he found a gap in his molars. "I'm going to miss that tooth."

"I imagine you'll be missing a lot of things when I'm through with you."

He popped his neck and grinned. "I imagine I'll be more trouble than I'm worth. I'm a terrible guest. I'm messy and I complain a lot and I can eat my weight in meat."

"You'll survive on whatever I decide to give you, until you outlive your usefulness."

He chuckled. "I might have outlived my usefulness the day I was born. Ask Katara, I still can't even do my own laundry."

"I don't care about your filth," she snapped.

"Oh you say that now, but wait until you smell my socks."

As her eyes narrowed his grin widened and eventually she turned away from him as though he'd ceased to exist.

"Lieutenant?"

A familiar looking officer came to her side with his open-faced helmet under his arm. He looked about the same age as Sokka, which surprised the warrior.

"Yes, Princess?"

"How long do you think it'll take to break him?"

Sokka snickered and the young man ignored him and rubbed his clean-shaven chin.

"It's hard to say. Could be days. Could be weeks."

"But it can be done?"

"Of course, Princess. No man can hold out indefinitely against the techniques of the True Fire Nation. No one has that kind of willpower."

"For your sake, you'd better be right."

The man bowed his head and shot Sokka a murderous glare out of the corner of his eye. Sokka laughed.

"Take him to his cell." Azula commanded and left the room without waiting to see her orders carried out. The door clanged shut and the officer turned his full attention to the prisoner.

"You and I are going to get to know each other," the man said, making his intent as clear and threatening as possible, "_very_ well."

Sokka smirked. "I enjoy painting and fishing and long walks on the beach. And I never put out on the first date."

The officer looked over his shoulder, nodded, and a guard with a broken jaw stepped forward and hammered his fist into the side of Sokka's face.

He rolled with the blow and lifted his head to smile at his captors, tasting fresh blood. "Is that any way to treat your new best friend?"

Two brutal hits later, he succumbed to senseless darkness.

* * *

He came to, what felt like hours later, with his face pressed against something solid and cold. A drop of water hit his cheek and he twitched, but couldn't bring himself to move. His body ached and the floor was soothing.

Another drop of condensation splattered on his ear and he forced his senses to extend past the pain and the numbing chill of the floor. He assumed he was in a cell of some kind, judging by the slight metallic echo and the stagnant air.

Something clinked and shifted, the sound like leather on steel, and Sokka knew he was being watched.

He groaned and licked his lips, tasting dry blood.

Another drop hit his face, trickling down toward his mouth, and he reached for it with his tongue.

A deep-voiced man chuckled. "You're pathetic."

Sokka worked his jaw, coughed once, and swallowed. "Water..." His voice cracked. "Please..."

"Aw, the poor little Water Tribe savage is thirsty. Give 'em a drink."

Freezing water splashed on Sokka's back and he squeezed his swollen eyes shut but didn't curl in on himself for warmth, despite the desire to do so.

"If you were a bender, we'd have to pump dry air in here and keep you in chains. How does it feel to be surrounded by your native element and completely helpless?"

The man laughed and someone else grunted in appreciation.

"Please," Sokka begged and shivered.

"You can't even move, can you? She fried you up good."

Sokka twitched and gave up, letting his breath come in ragged gasps as the cold seeped into his body.

"You're not going to get any help from us. Half the men on this ship want you dead and the other half would gladly do the deed. You broke my nose, scum."

Making a show of mustering his strength, Sokka rolled partway onto his side and cracked opened swollen eyelids to look at his captors. One guard had a painful looking horizontal wound across the bridge of his nose and extensive bruising along his cheekbones. His silent partner was the brute with the broken jaw. Sokka recognized his handiwork from the tavern fight and let his eyes drift closed, smiling in contentment.

"It's an improvement... if you ask me."

"Maybe you want some more improvements of your own?"

Sokka turned his head and put one bruised cheek to the cool floor, chuckling. "I could take you guys... on my back..."

The lock clicked and two sets of heavy booted feet hit the metal of the cell. "Time to learn your place, boy. Pick him up."

A rough, armored hand wrapped around Sokka's bicep and he smirked into the floor. The guards were anticipating a beating, but they didn't see it coming.

Sokka clamped his free hand around the guard's wrist and rolled onto his back, pulling the man off balance. All it took was one well-placed kick to the man's broken jaw to drop him.

Sokka spun and caught the first guard's legs in his own, tripping him to the ground. Booted heel met bruised face and the fight was over.

Flat on his back, Sokka allowed himself a moment to catch his breath. He lifted his head and made sure both the men were unconscious before rolling onto his side and pushing himself up to his feet, wincing.

"Can't say I didn't warn you two."

He had to hold the wall for support but it didn't dampen his spirits as he staggered out of the cell and pulled it shut behind him.

* * *

"It's true that water based tortures are less physically damaging, but I'm worried that he'll be resistive to their effects in the same way that we are resistive to flame."

"You're proposing we burn him."

The lieutenant smiled. "As you know, Princess, fire can be a powerful motivator."

Azula stopped and fixed him with a calculating stare. "I appreciate your desire to please me, but if he succumbs to his injuries, I will be most displeased."

"I can keep him alive, indefinitely."

Azula let her gaze drift past the officer, a hint of a cruel smile on her lips. "And do you think you can keep him locked in his cell for more than a day at a time?"

The officer spun and Sokka raised a tired hand in greeting and sighed.

"I'd say it's nice to see you two, but I'd be lying." He leaned against the wall with finality and Azula folded her arms.

The officer stepped forward, rage spilling out past his controlled exterior. "How did you escape?"

Sokka grinned. "It was amazing. You should have been there."

Smoke seeped between the young officer's fingers as he marched toward the escapee. "If I'd been there it wouldn't have happened."

"Remember, Lieutenant," Azula warned, cocking her head to the side and smirking. "I want him alive."

"Of course, Princess." He clenched his fists and extinguished his flames before turning back to face the unarmed, injured warrior. "I'm going to enjoy this."

"Really?" Sokka pushed himself off the wall and rotated his shoulders with a series of grinding pops. "Not many people like losing."

"You don't seem to mind."

Sokka opened his mouth to say something potentially witty but the officer lunged before he had a chance. The warrior dodged and twisted, catching the firebender's extended arm under his own and taking them both to the ground. Chest armor clanged against the metal floor and Sokka leaned back, wrenching his opponent's arm at an angle it wasn't meant to go.

The officer's shoulder dislocated with a crunching pop and he cried out in pain and frustration. Sokka let go and rolled into a defensive crouch, turning his focus to Azula as the man curled into a ball holding his arm.

"I don't think your boy is enjoying himself."

Azula unclipped the neck clasp holding her cloak in place and let it fall to the floor where it pooled around her feet. "You could have let him win, you know. He would have gone easier on you than I'm going to."

"Where's the fun in that?" Sokka smirked. "Besides, you want me in one piece. That means no bending."

"You think I need bending to beat you?" She smiled, dark yet genuine amusement touching the corners of her lips as she stepped toward him. "Have you forgotten your failed invasion on the day of the eclipse? I seem to recall keeping you and your friends busy without a wisp of fire."

"And I seem to recall a couple of Dai Li agents doing your dirty work." Sokka pretended to look for hidden men. "Who you got to back you up today? That's right, nobody."

Azula lifted her chin and arched one delicate eyebrow in invitation. Sokka let out a slow breath and got to his feet, sliding into a fighting stance and setting aside his mask of joking nonchalance.

Azula smiled and squared her shoulders, ready for the fight. "That's better."

He made the first move, as they both knew he would. He was the guest and she had no reason to hurry.

Azula jumped up and latched on to cooling ducts running above their head as he came at her. He went low, rolling as she swung her legs in a two-footed attack that would have cracked ribs. She dropped and spun on the ball of her foot, halfway through a preemptive roundhouse kick before awareness came.

He'd grabbed her discarded cloak and thrown it at her, blocking her view. The moment's confusion was all he needed to barrel into her, using the only physical advantage he had. He caught her with one leg above his shoulder and lifted her off her feet.

Before he could take her down, she clamped her free leg around his chest and threw her head back, letting the natural force of her downward motion and his charge combine. Her palms found the floor and he passed over her, completely in her control.

He managed to tuck his chin to his chest, impacting the floor with the broad muscle between shoulders and neck. If he'd landed on the top of his head, the fight would have been over.

Free from his grasp, she flipped away while he took a moment longer to roll back into a crouch. She didn't give him a chance to fully recover and all he could do was raise his forearms to block the kick she aimed at his face. Her armored boot hit his arms and she followed through with another kick that raised welts that would later turn to bruises.

Clasping her hands together, she brought a double fist hammering down. He rose into her attack, catching her wrists in his hands and lifting her arms above her head. He twisted and slammed her armored back against the corridor wall, snarling and panting two inches from her face, blue eyes blazing.

She smirked as sweat trailed down the side of his face and his warm breath hit her nose.

"For some reason I used to think the Water Tribe would have superior personal hygiene."

She slid one leg behind his and pushed off from the wall, taking his balance. He kept his hold and pulled her down with him, clamping his arms around her and rolling until he had the advantage.

Sokka sat on top of her, pinning her legs and hands with his own. "And I used to think you were tough. Funny what a few years and a little muscle can change."

She bucked once, arching her back to try and shake him free but he held fast.

"I don't know what you hope to accomplish by resisting," Azula mocked, unperturbed by her predicament. "Even if you did somehow defeat me, which you won't, you'd still have to fight your way off my ship."

"You have no idea what I'm capable of," he growled.

"I'd say the same to you."

She lifted her hands and slammed her armored forearms together, pinching his fingers between steel and finishing with a twist. His right hand, already injured by her lightning, tore and bled and he lost his grip. One hand free, she punched his chest, hitting the sensitive area at the base of his ribs, and followed through with an open palmed blow to his chin that rocked his head back.

She shoved him and he fell, gasping for breath and struggling to sit. Azula was on her feet in an instant, looking down at him without pity as she smoothed back a loose strand of hair.

"When you interfered with my father's plans, you paid a very small price."

Without warning, she stomped his left shin with her armored boot and he caught his breath enough to scream between clenched teeth.

"I know all about that battle," Azula said, casually walking around him as he curled on his side holding his old war wound. "I know how you single-handedly destroyed my father's fleet." She kicked, hitting the base of his spine where her lightning had burned him. He howled and straightened, bending back with the pain.

"I know you planned every major attack against the true Fire Nation." She placed her foot on his right hand and he twisted onto his stomach, powerless as she ground burned and torn flesh into the grated metal floor.

"And I know you helped my brother organize his hunt for me these past three years."

Sokka sucked air into his lungs like a man half drowned and pressed his face against the floor. "Zuko... wants to help you."

She increased pressure on his hand and he cried out, the pain and volume of his voice rising like a wave and slipping away as she lifted her foot and set him free.

"What I don't know, and what you're going to tell me," Azula said as he cradled his damaged hand to his chest, "is why you let yourself be captured. Why did you walk into my trap when you've so cleverly helped the Avatar and my brother avoid all the traps I've set for them?"

He struggled to his knees and composed himself enough to slip behind his mask of sarcasm and humor once again.

"I got bored?"

Azula narrowed her eyes. "I'll get my answers and then I'll get your secrets and then the world will tremble at my name."

Sokka ignored her and tore a strip of cloth from the bottom of his blue tunic and wrapped it around his bleeding hand carefully. "That was pretty low, going for my weak spots." He met her cool gaze, looking smug. "Afraid you couldn't win in a fair fight?"

Someone had raised the alarm and the pounding of booted feet filled the metal corridor as armored firebenders came from both directions.

Azula leaned forward so only Sokka could hear her, smiling ruthlessly. "Between you and I, there will never _be_ a fair fight."

"Princess, is everything alright?"

She straightened and glared at the fool who'd spoken. "Everything is alright because I made it so. Take Lieutenant Sen to the infirmary and take him," she said, pointing at Sokka, "to the chamber. And tell the Captain to prepare for take off. I won't risk losing my prisoner because of your collective incompetence."

"Yes, Princess."

Men saluted and dashed about, following her orders, two of them hooking their arms under Sokka's and hauling him up. He grunted and tried to stand but his left leg wouldn't support him and his back gave out a moment later.

The guards caught him and threw his arms around their shoulders, preparing to drag him to whatever destination Azula had in mind, but she stopped them, smiling at Sokka's obvious discomfort.

"You think you know pain?"

He took a steadying breath. "We've met, a few times."

Azula's eyes glinted with malice and she held his gaze as she held his life in her hand. "You're about to take your relationship to whole new level."

* * *

**If you enjoyed reading, please let me know! Also, check out my dA page for art (links in my bio).**


	3. Amber Eyes, Amber Flames

**The Dragon and the Wolf**

**Chapter Three: Amber Eyes, Amber Flames**

"Are you functional?"

Lieutenant Sen matched Azula's measured pace, step for step, and shifted his arm in its sling, frowning. "I was careless. He shouldn't have beaten me."

"You're right, but you didn't answer my question. Can you perform your duties?"

"It's just a dislocation, Princess. I'm fine."

"What I'm worried about is you keeping a cool head. Torture should never be about revenge. Or taken to a personal level."

Sen gave her a sidelong glance and his frown deepened. "Of course, Princess."

They stopped outside a metal door and two armored guards snapped to attention. Azula ignored them, turning her full attention to her torturer.

"Explain to me why we've left him alone for hours?"

"To give him time to think."

Azula raised an eyebrow. "That's exactly what we don't want to do."

"He won't be thinking rationally, my Princess. He knows what's coming but he doesn't know when. The anticipation and fear will have rattled his mental defenses."

Azula smirked at Sen's confidence. "Shall we take a look?" She nodded at one of the guards and he slid open the metal shutter on the door's small barred window. "You first."

He dipped his head in acknowledgement and stepped forward. Azula could have guessed what he saw by the look on his face, if she hadn't already figured out exactly what their prisoner was doing.

"Tell me, Lieutenant."

Sen pulled back and gulped.

"What did you see?"

"He's... sleeping. Princess."

Azula put her hands behind her back and glanced through the small barred window. The square of light only illuminated the top half of the sleeping man but it was enough. Drool trailed from one corner of his open mouth and his snoring was nothing if not genuine.

"He seems rather rattled, wouldn't you say?"

Sen didn't know how to respond so he dropped his gaze and said nothing.

"Have you ever seen this happen before?"

"No, Princess."

"You left him strapped to a chair in a torture chamber and he sleeps." She rapped the metal door but the snores didn't stop.

Sen lifted his eyes and met Azula's amber gaze. "He could be faking."

"You know he's not."

The torturer looked away in shame and Azula opened the door and stepped inside, clapping twice. "Wake up."

Sokka snorted and sat up straight, smacking his lips as he looked around the room with half lidded eyes. He pulled against the metal fasteners around his wrists and yawned. "A stretch would be nice."

"That could be arranged." Azula pointed at a machine with pulleys and ropes. "The rack is one of my favorite devices."

Sokka grinned, unfazed. "You need new hobbies. You should take up Pai Sho. Or finger painting."

"Did you have a nice nap?"

"Not really, but thanks for asking."

Azula scowled. "Enough pleasantries." She snapped off two streams of blue flame. Sokka yelped and tried to duck, but the only things that ignited were two torches set in the walls of the chamber.

Azula lifted her chin and smiled down at her prisoner. "You're right to fear me."

"Oh, I was just worried you'd hit me on accident. You firebenders aren't known for your accuracy." Sen stepped in the room, flanked by the two helmeted guards, and Sokka turned his teasing expression to the newcomer, his eyes drifting to the sling. "Hey, sorry about that, buddy. Looks painful."

Sen rubbed his right arm and scowled. "I'll show you pain."

Azula raised a hand and her officer fell silent while the two guards took up positions by the door and did their best to look intimidating.

"So."

"So," Sokka echoed.

"We'll start with a simple question. What is the Avatar's current location?"

"I was hoping you'd ask me this one." Sokka snickered and faked a serious expression. "He's on the Isle of Nun'ya."

Azula pursed her lips and questioned Sen with a glance. The torturer clenched his jaw and turned to Sokka, who was having difficulty keeping a straight face. "And where is that?"

"Nun'ya business!" Sokka said and laughed uproariously. "Get it? Get it? It's funny right?"

One of the guards chuckled as the joke sunk in and Azula spun on her heel. "Which one of you just did that?"

Both men straightened and pointed at the other without hesitation.

Sokka howled with glee, tears of mirth in his eyes. "You guys don't know how long I've been waiting to use that one!"

Azula singled out one of the guards and stepped into his personal space. The man was half a head taller than her but he seemed to shrink.

"You think he's funny?"

"No, Princess!"

She turned her glare to the other guard. "Do you?"

The man backed into the wall and held up his hands. "Not at all, Princess!"

"Lighten up, _Princess_." Sokka managed to strip her title of all dignity. "A little humor never hurt anybody."

The warrior didn't realize he'd been hit until the room stopped spinning.

"I take that back. Ow!" Sokka closed one eye against the pain and looked up at the fuming man at his side. "That's a nice left hook ya got there, Sen. Do you practice on your pillow every night before crying yourself to sleep?"

The torturer lifted his hand and Sokka braced for another blow.

"Sorry, didn't mean to be informal with you, _Lieutenant_."

Sen narrowed his amber eyes and flexed his fingers, popping his knuckles one by one. "Disrespect her again, _peasant_, and I'll end you."

"Wow." Sokka turned to Azula. "Where'd you pick this guy up? I thought all the really good bad guys these days were in jail or totally out of their minds."

The second hit was hard, but the third left Sokka staring dumbly at a tendril of blood and spit trickling from his mouth to his lap.

"Are you ready to talk?" Azula's voice dripped into his ear like honey and Sokka chuckled low in the back of his throat. "How many ships has Zuko sent after me?"

"Dunno." He shrugged but didn't lift his head. "I have trouble counting higher than ten when I'm wearing my boots." He snickered to himself and waited for more pain.

A perfect hand cupped his chin with a touch so deceptively soft that he couldn't help but look up into the face of the liar.

"Answer truthfully and I'll have them take you back to your cell, unharmed."

He grinned at the irony and drooled a mouthful of bloody spittle into her manicured hand. Her expression didn't change but her fingers laced into the hair on his chin and suddenly tightened. She pulled him forward against his bindings and held him there with the metal pressing into his chest and forearms and his facial hair slowly ripping from the strain.

He laughed, half-strangled. "Ok! I'll shave!"

She gave one last tug before letting go and he sank back into the hard metal seat like it was the most comfortable piece of furniture he'd ever been in.

Azula cleaned her hand on one of the door guards and turned to Sen. "Proceed."

The torturer pushed a lever forward and Sokka watched as his legs straightened out in front of him, lifted on a built in footrest. "Hey, that's pretty convenient," he joked and Sen turned a wheel, elevating the entire seat. Sokka nodded, impressed. "Can you make it recline next and get me some fire flakes and maybe a book to read?"

Azula took something from a nearby table and leaned toward him with an enigmatic smile. "While it's true that the point of an interrogation is to get someone to talk, you're not saying anything I want to hear right now."

Sokka opened his mouth to protest and Azula slid a wooden stick between his teeth and looped two small ropes around his ears to hold it in place.

"We don't want you biting your tongue off," she explained while the guards removed his boots and socks. Sokka pulled back his lips in a feral snarl and glared.

"Don't give me that look. You brought this on yourself."

He snorted.

"What did you think would happen when you became my prisoner, hmm?"

He lifted his shoulders and tried to say something sarcastic around the wooden gag.

"You think you're brave, don't you?" Azula placed her hands behind her back while one of the guards reached into a bucket and spread the greasy contents over the bottom of Sokka's bare feet. The warrior scowled and wiggled his toes.

"Cooking fat," she answered his unspoken question. "I suppose growing up in a frozen wasteland you're used to eating things raw, but in the civilized parts of the world we know how to roast our meat evenly." He gave her a dark look and she smiled. "Someday I might do your people a favor and wipe them all out." He growled and she walked behind him, whispering into his ear. "Don't worry, I'd let you watch."

He turned his head away from her and she nodded at her torturer. Sen held up his left hand and a flame came to life, drawing every eye in the room. Smoke curled around his fingers as the fire danced in his palm, reflecting in two sets of smoldering amber eyes and one of cool blue.

"Why did you let yourself be captured?" Azula asked the question as Sen inched his hand toward Sokka's left foot. The warrior pulled against his bindings but there was no where for him to go. "Did you come to assassinate me?"

The muscles in the back of his neck bunched, and he twitched, shaking his head in a near imperceptible manner.

"So if you didn't come here to kill me, what are you after?"

Sen passed the flame below the prisoner's heel and the yellow-orange heat licked at the grease and exposed flesh. Sokka bit into the wooden gag and closed his eyes.

"No one's coming for you."

His nostrils flared as the fire made another pass. Azula stepped to his side and cocked her head, studying his shifting expressions as he burned.

"You know that, don't you? You know you're alone."

He swallowed and opened his eyes, blinking away tears as Sen held the fire in place.

"So if you're not expecting a big rescue, why are you resisting? What can you hope to gain from your defiance except more punishment?"

The cooking fat sizzled, blistering calloused and tender skin alike, and Sokka's breath came faster. He met her gaze and shifted his jaw, wordlessly asking her to remove his gag.

"I'm warning you. Whatever you have to say better be good."

He nodded with enthusiasm and she traced a finger back through his sweaty hair, catching the loop and freeing it from his ear.

He dropped the wooden stick and let it dangle from the other loop. "I just wanted to say..." he paused, catching his breath as Sen pulled his hand back to give him a reprieve. "I don't think my feet have ever smelled this good." She backhanded him and he dropped his chin, laughing into his chest. "Oh c'mon, that was pretty funny."

"I don't know whether to be impressed or disgusted."

He snickered while sweat mixed with tears and blood and trickled down his face. "Be impressed. Not just any idiot can make jokes while being cooked alive."

"So you openly admit you're a fool?"

"Well, not when you put it that way." He lifted his head and gave her a pained yet cocky smile. "I prefer to think of myself as an idiot savant."

"Looking at your current situation, I'd say you lean more toward the former."

"No, I really am a genius. It just took me a few years to realize it."

"I think I prefer the fifteen year old fool who thought he could outsmart the entire Fire Nation."

He grinned. "No you don't. All women prefer confident men."

She raised her eyebrows and Sen cleared his throat. "Shall I continue, my Princess?"

"I dunno, Sen," Sokka mocked, fire flashing in his ice blue eyes. "Do you think you could do a better job of it? Feels like you missed a few spots."

"Gladly." The torturer's hand burst into angry flame and he grabbed the warrior's foot, engulfing it. Sokka locked his jaw and screamed through his teeth, thrashing against his bonds.

"Lientenant!"

Sen let go but the fire remained, devouring animal fat and human flesh alike. Azula reached out and the flame came to her, shifting from a hungry orange to an emotionless blue before dissipating.

Sokka tore his eyes away from reddening flesh and blackening toes and met Azula's neutral gaze with gratitude. He opened his mouth, closed it, and then made up his mind about what he wanted to say.

"Aren't you tired of running?"

Azula stared him down as he panted and sagged in his bonds. She leaned toward him, letting him see that she was not at all affected by his guileless words or the mysterious look of genuine concern on his face. "Aren't you tired of chasing?"

He lifted an eyebrow and tried to sit up. "Me, tire of the chase? Never."

She stood up and placed her hands on her hips, looking over his burned and blistering feet. "You won't be chasing anyone." Sen met her gaze and she gave him a nod. "Lieutenant, finish your work. Inform me if he decides to loosen his tongue, though I doubt you'll get anything useful out of him."

She closed the door behind her, but there was no way to shut out the screams.


	4. Blue Eyes, Blue Sea

**Author's Notes: **I'm terrible about replying to reviews here. Back in the day fanfiction dot net wasn't nearly as annoying as it is now. I wouldn't even post here anymore, but I'm a sucker for feedback and would always rather reach the widest audience possible. If you have a deviantArt account (or even if you don't), I highly recommend looking me up over there (links from my bio). I post my fics and art (there's a couple pieces floating around for this fic) and throw contests and have hilarious conversations with my reviewers. I just don't feel the same sense of community here. Back in the day people used to do a lot more reviewing on ff dot net, too. But maybe that's my fault for not replying? Feel free to share your two cents. ;)

**Review Replies: **Thanks for your comments! Really, they DO mean a lot to me.

To Anariel/Nayara, your comments have been so inspiring you've basically got yourself to thank for the continuation of this fic.

To Lost In A Dark Wood, glad you enjoyed the jokes and my portrayal of the characters. Sokka is 21 and Azula's 20, but age is hardly a determining factor for maturity. ;) I don't know about you, but I can see 40 year old Sokka still being a goofball, especially if his jokes have some ulterior motive (like throwing his opponents off-guard). I know I don't come out and say "HE'S TRICKING HER" or "HE'S FAKING IT" at a lot of scenes in this fic, but if I gave everything away it wouldn't be nearly as much fun to write. Azula starts to catch on to his mischief, though, don't you worry. XD

To J. Idanian, glad you're still enjoying the fic! There are as many different writing styles as there are authors, and many of us employ many different styles to capture the particular feel of our stories. I could wax poetic about the dew glistening on the fields as Sokka runs for his life or I could keep the action hard and fast, the dialog quick and witty, the torture sharp. I find it's easier to emulate a cartoon when you don't go too in depth. If you can see the characters acting and hear them talking in your head while you read my stories, that's the best I'm hoping for.

**Disclaimer: **Do we really need these anymore?

**The Dragon and the Wolf**

**Chapter Four: Blue Eyes, Blue Sea**

"Aren't you tired?" The voice whispered in her ear.

"Yes, you look tired," the second voice hissed.

"Always running."

"Always fighting."

"But you don't have to," the two voices spoke as one. She recognized them now - Li and Lo. They were always with her, though Azula dimly recalled banishing at least one of them. And certainly, they were nowhere on board her airship, yet their voices seemed to find her whenever she had a moment to herself.

It was enough to make a person crazy, their constant whispering, but it would take more to unhinge her. She focused on her breathing and tried to clear her mind.

"He's offering you a way out."

Azula's eyes flicked open, but there was no one else in her chambers. She resisted the urge to check behind the curtains draped around her cushioned seat. She was alone, she knew that. Her gaze drifted instead to the weapon displayed like a trophy on her wall. Her legs unfolded with the grace and poise that only years of training and a noble birthright could bestow. Without thinking, she took the sword down and returned to her padded throne.

It wasn't beautiful, but there was something about the sleek design that pleased her. The scabbard was plainly adorned, two toned wood with a golden inlay and tooled gold at the base. The design was simple yet elegant, and Azula suspected the work had been done by the master and not the apprentice. The pommel was a flat disc, golden like the other accents, with a White Lotus emblem displayed proudly, marking the bearer as one of their own.

He belonged. Not just to the White Lotus, or the Southern Water Tribe, but to his friends and the rest of the world at large - sought after for his advice, desired for his strategies, respected for his victories, and loved for his loyalty and devotion.

In short, he was everything Azula was not.

"And yet he's here, with you," the voices purred, coming to her with her eyes open this time. "He could take you home, take you away from your terrible choices."

"Home," she scoffed. "There is no home for me, anymore."

"He could help you."

"He wants to save you."

She ignored the voices and slid the sword out of its sheath, eyeing the dark blade. Here it was, hidden by modest design and a simple exterior, much like its owner. A core of hard, black steel, sharp as any edge known to man - sharper even. Deadly, cunning, ruthless, and versatile in its singular purpose. The blade and the man had one task and would do whatever it took to see it done.

The Avatar might have defeated Ozai, but Azula knew who to blame for the collapse of the Fire Nation. If it hadn't been for him, the airships could have completed their mission of purifying the Earth Kingdom, securing victory once and for all. If it hadn't been for him, there would have been no assault on the capitol, no uprising of joined Earth Kingdom and Water Tribe forces. If it hadn't been for him, the Avatar wouldn't have stayed focused on his mission.

If it hadn't been for him, staging a rescue of prisoners at the Boiling Rock, Azula wouldn't have lost her friends.

"Or your mind," Li and Lo whispered.

She snapped the black blade back into its sheath. If there was anyone who needed to suffer, it was him.

"He knows what I'm capable of. So why is he here?" she asked, knowing that the voices had no answers she could trust.

"To help you," they whispered her deepest thoughts and uncertainties. "Aren't you tired of running?"

A loud knock at the door startled her and Azula remembered a time when nothing and no one could catch her unawares.

"Princess," Lieutenant Sen came into her room and knelt before her. "It is done."

"Done?" She searched her scattered thoughts but couldn't recall what the Lieutenant had been doing for her. It was like scrambling up a slippery slope, but she kept her face a mask of cool control and lifted her chin, waiting for him to explain.

"He's broken, my Princess. He's ready to talk."

She shot to her feet. "Impossible." As if it would be that easy. As if all her answers could come to her on a silver platter. "You fool." She was out the door before Sen could get to his feet and hurry after.

"No man could have withstood what I've done to him and not crack," he assured and the more he spoke the more Azula knew it was a trick. "The damage was severe enough, to be sure. Nothing that won't heal in time, but the pain of those burns reduced him to a sobbing wreck. He begged me to get you so he could tell you everything he knows."

Azula quickened her pace. Apparently she was not the most convincing liar on the airship. "Trick," Li whispered. "Trap," Lo whispered. "Lies," they hissed.

"Silence," she growled and Sen snapped his mouth shut while the other two laughed in her head.

The door to the interrogation room stood ajar and Azula was not surprised in the least. Sen broke into a sprint, rushing on ahead to protect her or try to rectify the situation, but Azula cared little either way. One guard laid sprawled on the floor and the other sat, stripped to his underwear, in the torture chair. They were both unconscious, dead, if they were lucky. Azula had little tolerance for failure and what patience she had was running out fast.

"He… how? When?" The lieutenant clenched his good hand in his hair as he inspected the bonds that should have held their prisoner secure.

Azula stepped past and made her own assessment. The chair had been partially dismantled, but it would have been impossible to accomplish while strapped in. Something caught her eye and she went to the metal desk and picked up a folded piece of paper. A handful of screws fell out, clattering against the various torture instruments, and there was no doubt who had left them.

If there had been a doubt, the childish art doodled on the paper would have solved the mystery - sword in one hand, boomerang in the other, hair sticking up in a spiky ponytail, and tongue sticking out teasingly - who else could it be? And who would have had the audacity to leave a taunt when escape should have been his only priority?

"He must have done this after he escaped his cell but before you recaptured him." Sen was still trying to piece things together. "He knew we'd torture him. He came here first and removed just enough screws so he'd be able to get free." He turned and met her gaze as she crumpled the drawing in her fist. "He could have broken out at any time, but he let himself be tortured…?"

"If you're asking me to explain the inner workings of insanity," she snapped, "I'm afraid you'll have to be disappointed." She hadn't meant to say it, but there was no taking the words back. Sen swallowed and pretended she hadn't essentially admitted she was crazy. It was a touchy subject, one generally not allowed onboard her flagship.

Azula looked down and realized she had his sword in her hand, though she couldn't recall when she'd picked it up. Even the doodle clenched in her fists should have gone up in smoke, but some part of her held back her firebending. She tucked the paper away and cleared her throat. "Did you know that he once infiltrated the Boiling Rock and impersonated a guard for over a week?"

"The story is widely told," Sen replied, glaring at the naked guard. "How are we going to find him when he could be anywhere or anyone?"

Azula allowed herself a moment to consider the advantages and disadvantages of having every soldier wear matching armor that hid the identity of the wearer. They looked fearsome, certainly, but was it worth it?

"We can order the men to remove their helmets."

Azula rolled her eyes. "Yes, and while we're busy figuring out who's who, he could be off in the engine room sabotaging us."

"We can order everyone to scour the ship and report to the hanger for inspection."

"The hanger?" She fixed him with an amber stare. "I suppose you haven't heard the one about how he hijacked his first airship? I hope you can swim, Lieutenant."

Heavy booted feet clanged to a stop outside the door to the interrogation chamber and three matching armored men saluted. "Princess, reporting for duty as requested."

She arched one perfect eyebrow and exchanged another look with her torturer. "Who gave you that order?"

They must have heard the threat in her tone because two of the men stepped back and pointed at the third. Sen lunged and knocked the last man's helmet clear off his head with more force than was strictly necessary.

A stunned Fire Nation citizen with good breeding grabbed his nose as blood spurted down his lip, yellow eyes wide with surprise. "I'm sor'wy, prin'ess," the man apologized though it was clear he had no idea what he'd done wrong. "I wa jus' relayin orders."

"From whom?"

"Th' odder guard."

His two companions pointed back the way they'd come. "He was heading to engineering, Princess, passing along your command."

Sen growled. "Heading to our engines, just like you suspected." Azula doubted it, but if she corrected every one of Sen's misconceptions she'd run out of hours in the day. "We'll capture him," he said and ordered the men to fall in.

"Helmets?" Azula reminded and the lieutenant stopped, looking embarrassed.

"Take them off!" he barked, and the other two firebenders were quick to comply.

A second team of armored men marched up the hall from the other direction, and Azula, Sen, and their three confused companions stood in silence as the four newcomers came to attention.

"Task completed, Princess."

"What task?" Azula had to ask, though two voices whispered in her ear that she might really have given them orders. Uncertainty was by far the worst part of losing one's mind.

"All off duty soldiers are armed, geared, and ready for inspection."

Now every man on the ship would look exactly the same. Azula gritted her teeth and Sen came to her side and spat his order. "Take off your helmets, fools!"

The four men managed to look nervous behind their intimidating masks and even more so once they removed them.

"Go and tell every man on this ship to show his face. Our prisoner has escaped and is impersonating one of us, giving false commands!"

More feet pounded the grated floor and the group turned as one in the crowded walkway, wondering what was next. The two men saluted but didn't stop until Sen yelled at them.

"We were on our way to clear the hanger, as ordered."

"The hanger!" Sen said. "You were right, he means to dump us in the ocean!"

Azula put a hand to her forehead and considered going back to her room and calling it a night. "The way things are going he won't even have to."

"Princess!" She turned and the others did the same. Captain Li and four armored escorts clomped toward them. The one-eyed captain looked furious, the glare in his golden eye offset by the black patch where his other eye should have been. "What is the meaning of this?"

"I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific, Captain." She spread her hands to indicate the dumbfounded expressions and general confusion around her.

"The prisoner escapes, and you think my time would be better spent searching for him, than on the bridge where I belong? Am I nothing more than a foot soldier, now? An errand boy?"

"I assure you, I gave no such command with no such implications."

He straightened up and rubbed a hand down over his beard, looking rather pleased that he hadn't lost her approval. "Oh, I see. Merely a miscommunication then?"

"Captain," she said, keeping her voice level as cold realization settled into her gut. "Who's flying the airship?"

A crackling echo filtered down from the closest speakers and a very particular someone cleared his throat. "_Lady _and Gentlemen, this is _not _your captain speaking." There was a laughing tilt to the comfortable cadence of his voice, and for a moment Azula wondered how someone so infuriating could sound so soothing. "Looks like we're heading for a rough landing," he drawled, losing a bit of his mirth, "so please keep your safety harnesses on until we come to a full and complete stop. Thank you!"

She was already running toward the bridge when the floor lurched under her feet, added downward momentum to her mad dash. The men who'd been following her lost their footing and had to hold onto the handrails to keep from slipping. Not that she'd been expecting their competent assistance. She didn't expect help from anyone.

"You were wrong," she told the voices in her head. "He's not here to save me." Silence was her only reply - silence and the sound of her feet and heart hammering in her ears.

The door to the bridge was locked fast, most likely jammed from the other side, but Azula was not one to be stopped by mere inches of solid iron. She remembered the black length of steel in her hand and the door didn't stand a chance against it, her rage, or the burst of blue flame.

Shrapnel and two good sized chunks of twisted metal exploded into the bridge and would have dismembered the armored figure at the helm, had he not managed to duck, cowering with his back to the control panel. Glass shattered as the remains of the door hurtled out the front window, and wind whipped back inside, whistling and howling through the jagged gap as their descent grew even steeper.

He hadn't touched the controls, so that meant her own explosive entrance was to blame for the plummeting dive.

"Pull us out, now!" she bellowed against the wind, one hand on the edge of the ruined doorframe to keep from falling into the room. The windows were filling with the blue of the ocean rushing up toward them but all she saw was the blue of his wide eyes, staring back at her with fear, confusion, and other emotions she couldn't place so easily.

She was ready for him to try something, but instead he twisted around to his knees and grabbed the helm, or what was left of it after her wreckage had hurtled past. He pulled back on the shattered stick and the world started to level out, sandy beaches of a nearby island just coming into view. And then the metal bar broke off in his hands and he turned to her, holding it up like a guilty child.

"Oops."

"Oops?" she roared. "You've doomed us all!"

"Me?" he shouted back. "You're the one who busted in here and broke everything!"

"You're the one who hijacked the ship and put us on a crash course!"

"Well, you're the one who…!" he stopped, screwing up his face as he thought about it. Then he grinned and rubbed the back of his head. "Yeah, I guess this is mostly my fault."

She staggered toward him, trying to keep her balance, and for some reason he reached out to steady her. She slapped his hand aside and inspected the damage, thinking fast. She needed another metal bar to wedge down inside the helm. Something long and thin, with strength to spare, that she could use to manipulate the broken remains.

Once again, she realized her hand was clamped around the hilt of the perfect tool. She jabbed the bared blade into the mechanism and he yelped and grabbed her wrist. "Hey, careful with that!"

"It's the sword or your life, idiot!" she snarled down at him, but his wounded expression gave her a pang of something she could only describe as guilt, if such a thing were possible. "It's fine." She shook off his grip and wrapped both hands around the hilt, pulling back. The airship groaned as she tried to ease them out of their inexorable dive, but the damaged steering mechanism resisted her efforts.

She had no idea he'd gotten to his feet behind her until his arms came into view and his hands wrapped around her own, adding his strength. She had to resist the urge to elbow him, though the invasion of her personal space seemed irrelevant in the face of rushing death.

"What are you…?"

"Less talk, more pulling," he cut her off and redoubled his efforts. The ocean was nearly upon them, the lone island growing threateningly on the horizon.

"It's not enough!" she said, though they were both smart enough to know they were in trouble.

"It'll have to be." He gave one last mighty pull. Azula could taste the salty mist and then the ocean was upon them, roaring and rushing, an earsplitting crack of impact. At the last moment he sucked in a breath and curled around her, shielding her from shattering glass and white angry water.

And then they were in a different world, one where everything moved in slow motion and floated in a muffled, suffocating blue. She watched him shrug out of his heavy Fire Nation armor, like a fish escaping a net. How did he have the presence of mind to think rationally when even she felt frozen with the shocking cold and sinking doom?

He grabbed her wrist in one hand and his sword in the other and kicked for the broken window, dragging her along.

Why bother? She wondered. Why save her when he'd put so much effort into bringing her down? Why save her after everything she'd done to him and his friends?

Wouldn't the world be a better place without her in it?

"Let go," Li whispered.

"It's over," Lo replied.

"Now rest," they crooned and it seemed like a good idea. She was tired of running, tired of fighting, tired of trying when failure had been her only companion for far too long…

She drifted.

"C'mon, Azula."

A pesky voice, best ignored.

"Don't you dare give up."

She twitched, drawing her brows down in irritation.

"Breathe."

Had she forgotten to? Strength comes from the breath - every firebender knows that. A warm hand rubbed her back and sensation returned with a growing awareness of the cold and wet all around her.

"Let it out. Breathe, Azula!"

She did, but only so she could tell the annoying voice to leave her alone. Instead she coughed and sputtered and felt her lungs drain into the sand.

"That's it," he said, nearly laughing. "I knew you couldn't die that easily." He kept rubbing her back and then ran his other hand up and down her arm, bringing warmth and comfort she was sure she didn't deserve.

She rolled onto her back and pried her salt-crusted eyes open, staring up at his stupid grinning face and trying, once again, to guess his motives.

"You saved me," she croaked.

"I'm full of surprises." He winked.

"I'm powerless," she said, voice rasping. "Now's your chance."

He raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side like a curious puppy. "My chance to what?"

"How should I know?" She waved a limp hand. "They're your plans, not mine."

"Ah yes," he said and sat back on his haunches looking somehow disappointed. "My plans." He stared off for a minute, blue eyes searching and calculating. "Well, plans won't make us warm and dry."

"Unless you plan on finding firewood."

"Good plan." He grinned and pushed himself up to his feet, wincing and looking unsteady. "You stay put and rest," he told her, though it seemed like advice he should have given himself. She was too tired to even pretend to care, but once he'd staggered off she wondered if he wouldn't just disappear, abandoning her like all the others.

"He'll come back," Li promised as Azula's eyelids drooped.

"He's different," Lo whispered and Azula couldn't help but agree. He was unlike anyone she'd ever known. She just hadn't figured out what that meant yet.

* * *

**A/N2:** Oh no, the dreaded cliche! STRANDED ON A TROPICAL ISLAND! But wait a minute, isn't the whole "Sokkla Capture" thing supposed to be overdone? Hopefully I can make it entertaining... ;) Who says a Torture/Capture fic can't double as a Romantic Comedy?


	5. The Grey Wolf

**Author's Notes: **Thanks for all the reviews! Your continued support is the only thing keeping me posting. I particularly enjoyed **necro-wulf**'s review saying my older!Sokka "came off somewhere between Rambo, McGyver, and John Mclain". I just watched the A-Team and I was giggling about how my Sokka is a mix of the four of them. He's got Face's good looks and cockiness, Hannibal's planning skills, Murdock's insanity and luck, and B.A.'s badassitude. And just like every good action movie, I know things are "over the top". Sorry for those of you who don't enjoy that kind of thing, but trust me when I say that Sokka will pay the price for his heroics. ;)

**The Dragon and the Wolf**

**Chapter Five: The Grey Wolf**

"You awake, finally?"

Azula shifted and had to stifle a groan as her entire body protested. The smell of cooking meat drifted to her nose and she realized she was famished.

"Could have used you hours ago to start the fire," he grumbled. "Just like a firebender, never around when you want them to be."

She opened her eyes and stared up at a canopy of trees. Last she remembered, they'd washed up on a beach in the evening. Judging by the angle of the sun, it was morning. Funny what a little water in the lungs could take out of a person, but the sleep had done her good. She felt warm and dry and alive.

"Before you get angry, please realize I only did it for your own good."

Did what, she wondered, and then realized that there was nothing covering her royal dignity but a blanket of palm leaves. He'd stripped her wet clothes off while she slept and she saw them hanging from a branch in a nearby tree.

Whatever gratitude she might have had for his efforts went up in smoke with her palm leaves as she leapt to her feet, surrounded in blue flame. His jaw dropped and for a moment they were frozen in time, him - shirtless and staring, her - naked and enraged, and then everything clicked into motion as she launched a lethal blast of fire at his face.

He'd been rubbing some kind of salve on the bottom of one of his burned feet, and all he could manage was a girly yelp as he flattened himself back on the ground. The flames passed by harmlessly above him.

"I'm sorry!" He yelled and clamped one hand over his eyes and waved the other in the air in surrender. "I swear I didn't see anything!"

It was a lie and a weak one at that. She considered the pros and cons of ending his life right there in the dirt. While she considered, she stalked over to the tree and grabbed her clothes, throwing them on with a great deal less decorum than usual.

"You were freezing, I had to do something!" He hadn't moved but when she didn't respond or try to kill him again, he cracked his fingers to figure out what she was doing. "So, no more firebending?"

"For the moment," she said and sat down on a log by the fire. "What kind of animal is that?" She pointed to the spitted meat drizzling juices into the flames.

"Possum chicken." He still didn't sit up, though the cracks between his fingers continued to widen.

"And how are we supposed to eat it without utensils?"

"Um." He swallowed and lowered his hand from his face. "You're joking, right?"

"I doubt you could appreciate my humor."

He pulled himself to an upright position without his hands, and she wondered if he was intentionally trying to show her the rippling muscles of his exposed abdomen. She'd seen better. She even had better, truth be told, and Azula was nothing if not truthful about her own superiority.

"We'll just, y'know, eat it." He reached over and pulled at the meat, but it was apparently hotter than he'd expected because he hissed and pulled his fingers back, sticking them in his mouth like a six year old.

"Impressive."

He gave her a dirty look and held out his hand so she could see the burns and cuts she'd inflicted on him. The sight wasn't too appealing right before breakfast. "I'm sorry, I just forgot a certain someone _maimed _me."

She rolled her eyes and leaned forward to try her hand at the sizzling meat. "Don't be dramatic."

"Oh, I forgot my pain isn't good enough for you." He held his damaged appendage to his chest as though she'd personally offended it. "Guess how great salt water feels on open wounds? Not great at all!"

Her sharp fingernails made short work of the crispy layer of skin and she tore away a nice white chunk of the possum chicken.

"Not to mention I had to drag your dead weight through swirling currents all the way to the island." He mimed swimming through imaginary currents.

She placed the meat in her mouth, careful not to let it drip down her shirt.

"And then I had to carry you inland," he said, pretending to hold someone in his arms, "build a fire all by myself," he complained, pointing at his chest repeatedly to emphasize exactly who had done the fire building, "and catch breakfast." He slammed his fist in his hand and then winced. "I didn't even get to sleep last night!" He threw his hands up in the air.

She chewed and swallowed, reveling in the simple yet delicious flavor. She licked her fingers and gave him a level stare. "Are you quite finished?"

He huffed and folded his arms. "And if I'm not?"

She shrugged and attacked the meat again. "I'm just curious how your friends put up with you while traveling. Seems like a lot of annoyance for so little tactical advantage."

His mouth dropped open but nothing came out. Then he clamped it shut, took a deep breath, and exhaled a laugh that cleared away his childish demeanor. "Actually, I don't really know how they put up with me sometimes. But things change. People grow up."

"Some better than others it seems," she mused and placed another piece of possum chicken in her mouth. His expression darkened and he fell into a brooding silence that seemed out of character for what she knew of him. "Aren't you going to eat?"

He gave her a look and then lifted his foot, busying himself with applying the salve to his painful looking burns and blisters. "Eat your fill, I'll have what's left." He bit into a plant and squeezed more of the liquid into his hand.

Azula watched him work while she ate, analyzing his movements and behavior for any sign of what was going on behind his cooling exterior. Something she'd said had bothered him or reminded him of something else he didn't want to think about. If it had anything to do with her or his current situation, she couldn't say for certain, but she had a few suspicions.

"You had a falling out."

He looked up and there was just the slightest hint of surprise before he covered it. "What?"

"With one of them, or all of them. Your friends."

He scoffed. "Dunno where you got _that _idea."

"A man leaves behind everything he cares about to come on a suicide mission. There's usually some sort of impetus for that kind of behavior."

"I'm still alive, aren't I?" He was trying to hide his anger. She had him, though she wasn't sure she liked the answers. He wasn't there to help her, he was there to regain his honor or win back his friends. Whatever his actual excuse, she was just a means to an end.

"Alive for now. Though there's no telling how much longer you'll last as my prisoner."

He spread his hand, taking in their surroundings. "If you hadn't noticed, we're alone on an uninhabited island. And since you seem to need constant reminding, I just saved your life! I could have let you drown or killed you while you slept, but I didn't. And you still consider me your prisoner?"

She tensed but before she could strike, his black blade was between them, business end pointing at her chest. "Is this how it's going to be?" He asked, body and face a series of such hard lines that she wondered if all humor had left him for good.

"How else would it be?" she replied and lashed out with her foot, kicking the sword from his hand. It didn't take much to knock him back off his log and place her foot on his throat. He barely put up a fight and she wasn't surprised. Whatever near-mystical reserves of strength he'd been tapping into to resist the torture and injuries, the crash and the long swim, and the lack of food or sleep had finally run dry.

He choked and gurgled and met her gaze with blue eyes daring her to finish him. Here he was, one of the most famous heroes in the world, under her heel, begging for destruction. It was too much and much too late. The laugh built low in her throat before bursting forth, uncontrolled and unabashed.

She stumbled back and plopped down on his seat, letting the laughter roll until tears trickled down her face. He laid there on his back with his own tears trailing into his hair and that only made her laugh harder.

"It's pointless, isn't it?" she gasped between laughter. "We can't get what we want from each other. Neither of us!" She covered her face with her hand. "You probably don't even know where the Avatar is or what his plans are!" It was the funniest thing she'd heard in a long time. "You, his best friend, practically his brother, clueless!"

Li and Lo laughed with her and Azula entertained the possibility that her outburst was just another byproduct of her instability. It felt strangely good to laugh though.

A deep chuckle added to the mix. "We're pretty pathetic, aren't we?" he asked, and she swallowed her laughter as though it had never happened.

"Speak for yourself."

He raised his head to give her a look of profound confusion.

"You may get discouraged easily, but I have more than one way to achieve my goals."

He let his head thump back to the dirt and then a second time for good measure. Then he pushed himself up on his elbows and managed to look smug, despite the tear streaks. "Then it's a good thing you have absolutely no idea what I'm actually up to."

And just like that they were back to square one. They exchanged scowls and then he slumped onto the ground.

"What, you're just going to lie there?"

He rolled over on his side and was snoring within minutes.

She let him sleep while she considered her predicament. There was a very real possibility that she would be stuck on the island with him for an indeterminable amount of time. As much as she didn't care to admit it, he had his uses. While Azula had spent plenty of time hunting both her brother and the Avatar, she'd always done so with the might and authority of the Fire Nation behind her. Even now, she traveled in style and never had to worry about where her next meal came from. It wasn't her job to concern herself with the mundane aspects of life. She had a nation to conquer and rebuild.

She picked at the possum chicken he'd caught and shot his sleeping form another glare. He'd rolled over with his back toward her and she could see the ugly little lightning burn at the base of his spine. A starburst pattern radiated accusingly from two fingerprints burned into his flesh - Her fingerprints.

It had been more of a shock than a full blown lightning blast, and it was his own fault, really. She'd only done what she had to, to take him down. It was hard to believe that a non-bender could prove to be so effective against the numbers she'd thrown at him. But then, he'd trained with the best, and fought beside and against the most powerful warriors and benders the world had seen in a hundred years.

If she needed another excuse not to underestimate him, all she had to do was look at what he'd accomplished in two days aboard her flagship. He had more tricks up his sleeves than Mai had knives.

Azula flinched and pushed the thought away. It had been years since she'd thought about her so-called friends and now they seemed to be coming up more and more in her thoughts. She knew who to blame. Somehow he was getting inside her head and she hated it. Back in her prime no one could have breached her mental defenses.

She stabbed angrily at the half eaten possum chicken. Her hunger still wasn't sated and there was no reason to let the meat go to waste while the Water Tribe savage slept and snored and drooled into the dirt. Hadn't he told her to eat her fill? She left a few scraps that would have been more trouble than they were worth and imagined him gnawing on the bones like a dog. It made her feel a little better.

Azula shot him another dirty look and then settled back to meditate. She needed to decide what to do next, but planning could wait until she cleared her mind. Li and Lo were silent in her head and she thanked her own superiority for it. Eventually she'd be back to normal. Even mental scars had to heal in time. Her anger dissipated, fading back to the dark corner where she kept it.

When she opened her eyes, it was well past midday and she was thirsty.

She stood up and walked over to her snoring prisoner and nudged him with the toe of her boot. He grunted and opened his eyes, groggy and disoriented. "Huh the what?"

"I'm thirsty."

He rubbed his face and looked up at her, grimacing. "There's a stream over there." He gestured toward the woods. His movements were sluggish and the pain of his injuries seemed to hang over him like a cloud. If left to himself he'd probably stay right where he was until he was too sore and weak to move and Azula wasn't going to deal with that.

"So go to the stream and get me water. It's really very simple."

"Simple." He snorted and rolled onto his back. "Sure hold on, oh wait, wait, no." He pretended he was going to sit up and then flopped down uselessly. "I'm sorry, I'm all out of care. How about you worry about your own self for a while?"

"Now you're just being difficult." She folded her arms. "I'm thirsty, so you must be thirsty as well." He licked his cracked lips. "So how about since you know where the stream is, you show me, and we both get to drink?"

"That almost sounds like a compromise." He eyed her suspiciously.

She waved away the thought. "Call it what you want. I just want a drink."

He pushed himself to a sitting position, wincing and grunting, and didn't seem to be in any hurry to get to his burned feet. Her torturer had claimed that he'd done an impressive job on him, but now that Azula had a good look at his injures, she wasn't so sure.

"Your feet are probably very calloused from all the traveling, aren't they?"

He smirked, seeming to read her thoughts. "Naturally."

"You started screaming as soon as I left the torture chamber. That was all an act."

He shrugged. "Could have been. Your lieutenant didn't think so."

"We both know he was an idiot."

He snickered. "You're really better off without them."

"So get up, let's go."

He coughed and looked away, embarrassed. "It might not have _all _been an act." His hands drifted to his left foot and Azula could see the scorch marks where Sen's handprint was burned into his flesh and the angry red blisters around it. She rolled her eyes and hooked her hand under his left arm and hauled him up before he could object. He gasped and wavered and most likely would have crashed back to the dirt if she hadn't latched one arm around his waist and put the other on his bare, sweaty chest.

For a moment they were both stunned by her actions, but then Azula reminded herself that she was only using him for her own needs so it didn't really matter what small acts of kindness she showed. And really, dragging an injured man to his feet could hardly be considered nice. She had her own reputation to live up to, after all.

He lifted his arm and lowered it toward her looking unsure and more than a little terrified. "Can I…?" He gulped and Azula was left to figure out his intent on her own.

"Only if you absolutely have to."

He put his arm around her shoulders and leaned into her, taking the weight off his left foot and letting out a long sigh. "Phew." He pointed off into the bushes. "Can we get my sword?"

She helped him shuffle over to it and even leaned down to pick it up for him. Logically, she might have thought twice about arming her prisoner, but in his current state he couldn't even be considered a minor threat. She handed it to him and he took it gratefully, sliding it into his belt. "You really hate being separate from it, don't you?"

"I lost it once," he said. "I'm not going to lose it again."

Technically, they were both hers now, but she didn't feel like arguing the details. "Now where's this stream?"

He guided her to it, limping and shuffling and wincing and groaning the entire way. It was a relief when they made it to the water's edge and she was able to separate herself from his clammy skin and distinct odor. He drank like a man who'd been lost in a desert and then splashed water on his face and chest, washing away grime and blood and sweat and who knew what else. At the very least, he wouldn't smell as bad, but then again it was Azula's fault that he hadn't been allowed to bathe.

When he was finished he plopped down on a rock and let his feet dangle in the cool water. "Ah, that's better." He let out one long happy sigh as Azula drank her fill and then found her own rock to sit on.

The sun glistened on the water as the two sat in silence, left to their own private musings. It was a peaceful place. Some might even call the scenery beautiful. It bored her.

While she pretended to contemplate the view, she watched him out of the corner of her eye. He seemed different after the drink and quick bath - content almost. He sunned himself on the stone like an overgrown lizard monkey, his eyes drooping lazily, and she wondered if he planned on staying there for the rest of the day.

She sniffed. "Eventually, I will require more food."

At mention of food, his stomach rumbled and he gripped it to try and stop the embarrassing gurgles. "Good for you," he grumbled, slipping back to his usual self. "You're human like the rest of us."

"We both need to eat. The question is, what are you going to do about it?"

He turned toward her and the light reflecting from the water made the bruises down one side of his freshly cleaned face stand out in contrast to his tanned complexion. Dark shadows under his eyes added to the look of haggard annoyance he shot in her direction. He pointed at the water without breaking eye contact. "Hey, look, it's a stream."

"So?"

"What can you find in streams?"

She stared at the water a moment. "Fish."

"Great. There you go." He flicked his wrist and turned away. "Enjoy."

"I'll enjoy it when you catch it."

He raised his eyebrows and swiveled around to face her, putting his hands on top of his knees. "Seriously?" He lifted his arms so she could see the work she and her soldiers had done to him. "Burned feet, extensive bruising, mutilated hand," he said, waving it about. "Do these even register to you?"

"If you're looking for sympathy," she began, not bothering to hide her boredom, but he cut her off.

"How about a little empathy? Ever tried that?"

"Why would I want to put myself in lesser shoes or understand how my inferiors feel?"

He ground his teeth and then took a long breath and exhaled it out his nose. "You're just trying to get to me, aren't you?"

"It's possible," she replied, and inspected some dirt under her fingernails.

"How about another compromise?"

"I'm listening," she said, continuing her inspection.

"I'll teach you how to catch a fish and clean it and cook it and then not only will we have dinner, but you'll have a useful new skill in case you ever end up stranded on your own."

"Well that sounds like a lot of work on my part, but I suppose it can't be helped." She got to her feet and dusted off her pants. "So what do I do first?"

He scratched the scruff on his chin and rubbed his hand over the stubble on his jaw. Eventually his goatee would end up becoming a full beard and Azula wasn't sure what she thought about that. "There's a few different methods you could use here." He glanced around at the rocks standing in the shallow stream. "But what I'm going to teach you is called trout tickling."

"Trout tickling? That sounds ridiculous."

"Ridiculous but effective," he said, leaning forward intently.

"Ah, then I can see how that would appeal to you." She rolled her eyes. "Let's get this over with."

"Okay, head slowly over to that rock." He pointed. "Fish like to rest in sheltered areas."

"I didn't realize fish get tired."

"They're living things," he said and shook his head like he couldn't believe he had to explain it. "You get tired, they get tired, and suddenly I'm getting really tired."

"Alright, you don't need to get snippy." She made her way to the rock, quiet and careful as a shadow. "Now what?" she whispered, unsure if the fish might hear her.

"Reach down under the edge," he said and wiggled his fingers in the air. "Come up from below the fish and just kind of tickle along the bottom of it until you find its gills."

"This is stupid," she muttered but did as she was told. To her surprise, her fingers brushed against something that most definitely was not a rock. She felt fins and scales and then the slits behind the fish's head. "What's next?" She hoped she didn't sound too excited.

"Well, you keep tickling and it'll sort of put him into a trance. Then you can just hook 'em by the gills and throw him on the bank."

She tickled, feeling a bit foolish, and cast a glance back to make sure he wasn't laughing at her expense. He wasn't, but she didn't like the slight tilt of his head or the odd expression on his face that she couldn't place. She was bent over with her posterier in the air and she could only imagine the unacceptable view she was presenting. "Stop staring," she hissed and he blinked, looking stupid.

"Huh?"

She hooked the gill and turned in one fluid motion, tossing the flopping fish directly at his flopping jaw. It smacked him in the face and he yelped, fumbling to catch their dinner and managing to juggle it a few times before he and the fish fell back off his seat.

"Ack, it's getting away!" He pointed helplessly as the fish flapped and flopped, jerking its way toward the water. Azula kicked off from the nearby rock and launched an unnecessarily large stream of blue flame, ending the fish's mad dash for freedom.

Sokka uncurled from the defensive ball he'd rolled into and sat up, half covered in sand and mud, and waved his fist in the air. "You could have killed me!"

She smirked. "More fish for me, that way."

He snorted and then laughed to himself as he brushed off the dirt. "So you do have a sense of humor."

She used the larger rocks as stepping stones, making it back to the shore effortlessly, and collecting the half burned remains of their dinner. "And look, we don't even have to cook it."

He grabbed his sword and handed it to her hilt first. "Slice open the belly and pull out the guts. Then we'll see if we can salvage the rest."

She did as she was told and didn't even feel irritated when he told her to clean it off in the stream. He showed her how to skewer it and how to build a proper fire and in no time, they were sitting in a strangely comfortable silence, waiting for their dinner to cook.

"It's amazing how such a simple thing can give someone such a sense of accomplishment," she said. "I suppose I can see why you ever bother getting out of the bed in the morning. Even when you were traveling with your vastly superior friends."

He gave her a strained smile in return for her gracious compliment. "Well, it wasn't always this easy to keep everybody fed and happy. There were a lot of rough times, not to mention all the close calls." He shrugged. "We were lucky."

"In my experience, you make your own luck."

He grinned. "Are we actually having a civil conversation?"

"I can threaten you, if you prefer."

He held up his good hand, laughter in his eyes. "No, no, this is fine." He smiled at her for a long moment, making her feel increasingly uncomfortable, until he finally looked away to check the fish. "It's ready. Which half do you want?"

"I don't need half," she said, keeping the lie smooth. "It's a big fish."

Keen blue eyes met her own and she suspected he saw right through her. She started to regret the gesture - she'd only offered so he could keep his strength up and continue to be useful - but then he smiled again and sliced the fish apart with practiced ease. "Well, you can have the good parts then."

She accepted the smoking fish and sank her teeth into the tender meat. It was good. Exceptionally good. Perhaps the best fish she'd ever tasted. She was about to say as much when a rustle in the trees drew their attention. Sokka dropped his untouched fish and grabbed his sword as they both got to their feet, ready to defend themselves from whatever hideous monster the island might have spawned.

"Princess! Are you there?"

"Here!" she called back and the clearing filled with red armor and men she'd never expected to see again.

"Take him down!" Lieutenant Sen ordered and for a moment Azula wondered what he was talking about. She followed her officer's gaze and found Sokka, teeth and blade bared, looking for the world like some kind of feral animal she'd found in the woods. Her men surrounded him and the fight was brief and bloody.

He took off the first attacker's hand at the wrist and the gauntleted fist fell dead at Azula's feet. She looked up when she heard a sickening crunch and blood from Sokka's brutally broken nose splattered over her face and clothes. His eyes met hers and the moment seemed to hang in the air between them.

Did he expect her to do something?

But then red fists flew and slammed into his jaw and shoulders and stomach and chest and back and he disappeared in the crowd of angry men. She could just make him out between their legs, curled into a ball as they kicked and pummeled and beat him into the rocky shore of their once peaceful stream.

* * *

**A/N2: **Don't forget, Reviews are Love! :D Chapter 6 is kicking my butt and I could use the encouragement.


	6. Red Chains

**Author's Notes: **I'd apologize for the wait, but this chapter refused to play nice and I wasn't about to post it until I fixed it. I'm still not 100% satisfied, but what can you do? Thanks again for the many wonderful reviews and continued interest and support. If you're looking for another taste of this Universe's Sokka, check out the prequel story "The Raven and the Wolf" (It may be labeled as Maikka, but I hope you realize by now how I do shipping - light on romance, heavy on the awesome). I have two other chapters I could post for that, if people are interested in how it ends. :)

**The Dragon and the Wolf**

**Chapter Six: Red Chains**

There wasn't much to do but watch the blood drip down into the puddle beneath his feet. It was either focus on that or his breathing, and breathing was _pain_. So he watched the red trickle leak from his body and wondered how much more he could afford to lose.

Perhaps he'd made a mistake.

The wheel on the door spun around and the torturer and two of his cronies entered the room, looking up at him. Sokka could barely see them around the swollen mass that had once been his nose.

"You ready to come down?"

A rasping gurgle and a bubble of bloody spit wasn't much of a reply, but the officer seemed to get his message. Sen nodded and one of his men went to a wheel on the wall and started turning it. The jolting descent was murder on his shoulders but when the pressure finally came off them and his manacled wrists he could have cried with happiness.

He probably was crying, but there wasn't much he could do about it.

"Put him on the table."

Rough hands slid under his half-numb, tingling arms and he couldn't hold back the sharp gasp of pain or the subsequent sickening coughs as his lungs tried to clear the fluid they'd accumulated while he'd hung helplessly.

"We've gone easy on you, so far."

Sokka was far too busy trying not to choke to come up with any kind of witty response. The two guards spread him out on the cold metal of the table and Sen looked him over like a butcher inspecting a poor cut of meat. He slid on a pair of black gloves and lifted Sokka's right arm, and then his left, checking the mobility in his fingers and wrists and elbows. Satisfied, he moved on to Sokka's chest and shoulders, pressing and prodding while the captured warrior sucked in his breath and tried not to cry out.

"But don't mistake our mercy for kindness."

Sokka had made plenty of mistakes, but mistaking a Fire Nation beat down for kindness wasn't one he was likely to make any time soon. He wanted to say as much, preferably with some kind of zinger that would eat at Sen's mind for the rest of the week, but he just wheezed instead, coughing up a bit of blood that didn't belong in his lungs anyway.

Sen took a rag and wiped at the bloody spittle trailing from Sokka's mouth and then attacked his face with it, causing a whole world of hurt that Sokka didn't appreciate or feel he particularly deserved. He grunted into the rough cloth and squeezed his eyes shut, which would have hurt enough without all the face rubbing. His eyes were nearly as swollen as his horribly broken nose.

Sen finally let up and continued cleaning the remaining blood from his chest and arms.

It was the roughest bit of doctoring Sokka had ever received, but aside from some cracked ribs and more cuts and bruises than a man should ever experience at one time, he was in remarkably good shape after the beating. Sen was right. They had gone easy on him. Mostly.

The torturer sneered down at him and Sokka saw the tiny reflections of his own face in the cruel amber eyes. It wasn't a pretty sight.

"You're probably wondering why we didn't destroy you back there."

Sokka had a few theories, but he decided to let Sen have his fun. The poor guy had already suffered enough at his hands, after all. The thought brought a laugh that thankfully sounded more like a war balloon leaking air. Sen didn't seem to notice.

"After all the trouble you caused us." The young officer straightened up and put his hands behind his back, apparently thinking that he'd look more intimidating that way. He didn't. "You hijacked and crashed our airship and then kidnapped the princess," he said, as though Sokka needed to be reminded of his own brilliance. The torturer clicked his tongue in disapproval. "I can only imagine what she has in store for you."

She's trained them well, Sokka thought. No matter how much they hated him, they still wouldn't take action without Azula's orders. They'd even left him mostly intact so that she could extract her vengeance instead of fulfilling their own needs. It showed how much they both feared and respected her. But there was trust too - the trust that she would deliver a punishment beyond anything they could come up with on their own.

Sokka put his hand to his bruised ribs and took the deepest breath he could manage. "Shee wont." His voice came out in a clogged whisper and the torturer frowned and leaned toward him.

"What's that?"

"Shee wont hurd meh," Sokka choked out, broken nose and clotting blood thickening and mangling his speech. A dark smile started across Sen's features but Sokka stopped it cold. "You thaw us togetha by the sthream."

Hesitation. A flicker of uncertainty. Oh yes, even Sen wasn't dense enough to miss the implications. How strange it must have been for the former Fire Nation loyalists to find their princess enjoying a peaceful meal with their enemy, a man who had caused them all so much grief.

Speculation must have run rampant. If it hadn't, it would soon after Sen and the two guards left him.

"I th'aved hur," he said, missing his old eloquence, "shee almos' dwowned." It hurt to talk, and he sounded stupid, but it was worth every twinge of his bruised jaw and raw throat to see the impact of his words. The armored guards glanced at each other, expressions covered yet still so readable, and Sen was an open book.

But then, Sokka had figured out the officer five minutes after meeting him. Azula probably had no idea her torturer was in love with her. It would have been sad if it wasn't so hilarious.

"Even if that were true," Sen said, taking a moment to compose himself, "it's your fault the ship crashed in the first place. You put her in danger."

"An athadent," Sokka said with the most sincere smile he could manage. "Ask hur." It wasn't entirely true, but Sen didn't need to know that. Hijacking the airship had only been part one of an elaborate plan that had gone out the window with half the control system and Azula's big blast of blue fire. But Sokka was nothing if not adaptable, and so far, things were playing right into his hands. For the most part.

"The Princess is busy deciding what to do with you." Sen sniffed and straightened up. "I wouldn't put much hope in her showing you mercy," he said with an evil grin. "She doesn't know the meaning of the word."

Sokka smirked. "You'd bwe tha'pwised. Mebbe I know hur betta than you thingk you do?"

Lightning flashed in the torturer's eyes and heavy thunderheads rolled in over his expression. "We'll see." He stormed out and stopped in the doorway, turning back to shoot Sokka one more look of intense dislike. "We'll be back to carry out your punishment. If I were you, I'd prepare for the worst."

* * *

What had he done to her?

No matter how Azula rationalized the events of the last few days, she couldn't sort things out. He'd escaped, hijacked and crashed her flagship, and then instead of executing him she'd helped him and let him teach her how to fish and even shared a meal with him.

An accusing voice interrupted her thoughts. "A meal he never got to enjoy."

The look he'd given her as her men took him down was burned into her mind. Azula scowled and tried to clear the image. "Shut up, Li."

"I'm Lo!"

"Both of you shut up," Azula said. "I'm trying to think."

Thankfully, she was alone in her command room - the command room that was also her bedroom and throne room and private audience chamber combined. The cramped multipurpose space served to remind her of everything she'd lost and she focused her thoughts on that instead of replaying the last day over and over in her head. And then she saw his sword, freshly cleaned of blood and hanging on her wall like the trophy it was.

She clenched her fists and glared at the weapon. "He didn't have to resist!"

"Of course he did," Li said.

"My men would have taken him into custody without violence." Two old windbags chuckled in her head and Azula gritted her teeth. "I will not be mocked."

"Azula, dear," Lo teased, "you're speaking to figments of your imagination and you're worried about your image?"

"If you can't respect yourself, who will?" Li added and then the two of them snickered.

Azula ignored their laughter. "He could have spared himself a lot of pain…"

"If he only obeyed your every wish and command?" Li interrupted.

"Is that what you _really _want?" Lo purred and Azula scoffed.

"Of course it is. It's what I deserve. I was born to rule others."

A knock at her door snapped her back to reality. "Princess? May I enter?" Azula spent a moment making sure the imaginary, yet still snickering, Li and Lo were nowhere to be seen before schooling her appearance to one of cool control.

"You may."

Lieutenant Sen took two steps inside and knelt before her, fist to the ground. "The prisoner awaits, Princess."

She stared down at him in silence until he started to fidget. "Who commands this ship, Lieutenant?"

He glanced up, doubt creeping into his features. "You, Princess. Of course."

"Then why do you think you can get away with telling me what I must do?"

He swallowed. "I don't understand."

"Do I need your permission to punish the prisoner?"

"Of course not, Princess." Fear and something else warred behind the officer's eyes.

"Then why do I need your permission to wait?"

He blinked. "Wait?"

"Yes," she said, waving offhandedly and focusing on her perfect nails. "I don't feel like punishing him right now."

"That's…" he trailed off and glanced back at the door. He turned back to her with a mixed look of disbelief and concern. "That's completely up to you, of course. I just, I don't understand."

"I don't expect you to."

She could see the wheels in his head turning, ponderously slow. He licked his lips and leaned forward, whispering, "After everything he did to undermine your authority?"

All it took was a slight pursing of her lips to make the man quiver for his insolence. He dropped down before her, face to the floor. "I apologize, Princess, I meant no disrespect."

"Then choose your words more carefully."

He seemed to be struggling to do just that. "Princess, you know I have never doubted you or our purpose." He looked up, pleading. "I speak only out of devotion and loyalty."

"If you have something on your mind, spare me the theatrics and get to the point."

"The men need justice."

"Justice?" Azula narrowed her eyes.

"We've been defeated and humiliated and beaten by that man, and now, after his greatest act of defiance, you choose to go lenient on him? Morale is already at an all time low and I'm not sure how much more the men can take."

"I see." She didn't like it, but she couldn't deny it either. The infirmary was full of men who had been injured in the crash and others who had suffered more directly at their prisoner's hands. A young, popular soldier had even lost his hand in the most recent fight and it didn't take much to imagine what his friends were thinking. Those who weren't injured were working non-stop to repair the damage to her flagship and tensions were running high. They were limping along at one quarter speed, and even Azula felt like a sitting turtle duck.

And yet for whatever reason, she still had no desire to punish the one responsible for their current predicament.

"It's none of my business, Princess," Sen said, his tone implying quite the opposite, "but did something happen on the island?"

"Something like what?" Azula had nothing to hide and yet she felt a strange flutter in her chest. Guilt? Embarrassment? She wasn't sure.

"The prisoner made some insinuations," Sen mumbled and then cleared his throat. "And he claimed that he saved your life, which is ridiculous."

"It _is _ridiculous," she said, catching a smile before it spread as she remembered their somewhat amusing conversation about fishing. Ridiculous, but also true, she thought to herself. She probably should have told Sen as much, but until she figured things out, she didn't want the officer spreading rumors. "The prisoner was at my mercy the entire time."

Sen looked relieved. "Of course, Princess. The men will be happy to hear it and happier still when you dispense judgment on the lying scum. Shall I ready the instruments?"

Sen might have been an idiot, but no one kept their position in the Fire Nation military without having a certain skill in manipulation. In the old days, Azula never had to worry about pleasing her men, but things were different now that they were little more than a rebel faction. Fear could only get her so far.

She sighed. "Take me to him."

* * *

Four alert guards stood outside the prison cell while a fifth stared through a small barred window, keeping a constant eye on their slippery prisoner.

"I'll require a moment alone with him," Azula said, and hoped her tone sounded appropriately menacing. She clicked the window shut and waited for one of the men to open the door for her. When the door sealed shut behind her, Azula realized she had no idea what she could possibly say.

He looked horrible, almost unrecognizable behind the mess of bruised and swollen flesh that now passed for his face. But when he saw it was her, he rolled carefully onto his side and slid his battered legs and burned feet over the edge of the metal table he was resting on. He kept one hand on his ribs while he levered himself up to a painful looking slouch. The breath wheezed from his lungs and blood oozed from his nose as he watched her.

Her gut clenched and a wave of undeniable guilt washed over her. Had he really done anything to deserve the treatment he'd received?

And then he smiled, showing off a full set of white teeth that seemed out of place. "Id pwobably looks worse than id fweels," he said with heavy nasal inflection. "But id still dusn't fweel too good." He chuckled and grimaced, clutching his ribs.

She brushed her fingers back through her hair, making sure every strand was in place, but somehow her perfect appearance only made her more uncomfortable in his presence. She glanced back at the door, considered making a run for it, and then squared her shoulders and marched over to the table.

"You do realize," she said, keeping her head high, "that I didn't order any of this."

"You didun't thtop them, eitha. Ath I recall." His voice was thick, whether from emotion or his damaged nasal passages or both, she couldn't be certain.

She frowned. "And why should I have?" Give me something to work with, she wanted to say, though she wasn't sure exactly what she wanted to hear from him.

His shoulders sagged and he stared down at his lap. "No reasun. Nun ad all."

"You have to appreciate my position."

He snorted and winced, lifting one hand to his broken nose."Jus tell me one thingh," he said, and her heart hammered in her throat with nervous curiosity. He turned his head to the side, showing his ruined profile. "How bad does id look? Bwe 'onest."

She raised an eyebrow, disappointed. "That's all you're worried about?"

"I know id may not mean anythin to you, but ith my face and we've been thwough adot togetha." He probed tender flesh and stared cross eyed at the damage.

She scowled and brushed his hand aside, lifting his chin to find better lighting. She rotated his head one way, then another, inspecting his black eyes and cuts and bruises and stubble from every angle and finished with a pinch to the swollen bridge of his crooked nose.

"Ow." His blue eyes watered, the only part of his face that was still easily recognizable, and he looked up at her expectantly. "Whell?"

She dropped her hand away and wiped it against her pant leg. "Well, you sound ridiculous, but don't most women appreciate rugged features?"

Apparently that wasn't what he wanted to hear. His split lip trembled but before he could start crying or whining or complaining or lamenting she reached out and placed a knuckle on the opposite side of the break and steadied his head with her other hand.

"Wud aw you…?" A loud crunch cut him off as she jammed the cartilage back into place. "Ow!" He scrunched his face and grabbed his straightened nose. "Ah, ha ha, ow…" After a bit of probing, some painful looking scrunching and a few soggy sniffs, he broke into a wide, childish grin. "Thanks!"

She blinked and tried to remember the last time someone had honestly thanked her for something she did. His open gratitude made her feel uncomfortable and she straightened, putting her hands behind her back, and pretended nothing had happened. "Now I have a favor to ask of you."

He was still poking his bruises and wiggling his straight yet swollen nose like a child with a new toy. "Don't know what I can do for you, but sure."

"My men are waiting outside. They expect me to punish you. Severely."

"But you don't want to?" He looked up, black eyes glistening with unshed tears and hope. Optimism was a funny thing to see on such a battered face.

"It's not about what I want, it's about what they need to see."

He frowned. "Ah yes, your _position_. Can't have your men lose faith in you, now can we?"

"The sarcasm is unnecessary. I'm just giving you a chance to have your say."

He straightened up to the best of his ability and met her gaze as though they were equals. "I say don't do it."

"That's not an option."

He exhaled a shaky breath and seemed to deflate. "Well, you don't have to worry about me playing my part, but I'm not going to help make this decision easier on you. I've already had enough pain for a lifetime."

"I'm giving you a choice." She put her hands on her hips. "It's more than I've ever given any other prisoner. _You _should be _grateful_."

He folded his other arm over his chest and hunched in on himself. "You have some funny notions about what people should or shouldn't feel."

She pursed her lips and he glared right back, not giving an inch.

"Guards!" she barked, and Sen came in with a case under his good arm, followed closely by two other armored men.

"What will it be, Princess?" The lieutenant placed the case on a desk and opened it up for her and Sokka to see. The instruments of torture glistened in the torchlight and Sen picked up a pair of pliers. "Shall I remove his teeth? Or perhaps his fingernails? Or both?"

Sokka swallowed and gave her the tiniest pleading shake of his head.

"Do you think he'd be any less dangerous if we de-toothed and de-clawed him? He's not an animal you can train to stay off the furniture."

Sen looked appropriately cowed by her words. "Of course not, Princess." He licked his lips and picked up a pear shaped device. "We could destroy his jaw to make sure he never says another bothersome thing again?" He twisted the handle and the bulbous end expanded. "Or you could put it somewhere else and cause considerable damage."

Sokka's eyes widened and Azula waved her hand, showing her disinterest.

"We could cut out his tongue?" Sen held up a wicked knife. "Or chop off a few of his fingers? Or gouge out his eyes?"

She didn't need to see Sokka to know he didn't like his choices. She thought fast. "What we need is a way to stop him from trying to escape."

"Of course, Princess. You are absolutely right."

She spun on her heel, facing her prisoner with the best option she could come up with, one that wouldn't necessarily damage him for life. Years of practice being intimidating lent her voice the proper air of menace as she leaned toward him, smiling her most evil smile for the sake of their audience. "Do you like your knees?"

She saw the light of understanding in his eyes and he grinned like an arctic wolf, his chest rising and falling fast as adrenaline coursed through his body in anticipation. "I _love_ them."

"Which one do you love _more_?"

She could see him thinking about it, weighing his options. "I'm gonna have to say, my left."

It's what she would have gone with, if she were him, and she had no intention of damaging a healthy limb if he'd said otherwise. She knew his left leg had already been wounded numerous times in the past and at least this way he'd still have one good leg to rely on.

"Break it," she commanded, and Sen picked up a heavy hammer while the two guards moved over to subdue their victim. Sokka's bruised nostrils flared and he resisted just enough to look convincing, but not enough to land himself in more pain. He growled and struggled but his left leg stayed right where it needed to be for Sen to raise the hammer and bring it crashing down with a wet crunch.

Sokka's eyes rolled back and he went limp in their arms. The three soldiers cheered. "That got him!" Sen looked thoroughly pleased and Azula gave him a tight smile.

"Yes, I'd say he's learned his lesson."

"The men will be pleased. I can't wait to spread the good news."

"Well, what are you waiting for? And have someone bring in a stretcher so you can take this filth back to his cell." One of the guards remained behind, hovering by the door, but Azula waved him out. "I'll watch him until you get back. Go help with the stretcher and be quick about it."

The door shut and Sokka cracked open an eye and hissed in a breath. "Your plans. So bad," he groaned and curled on his side, clutching at his knee without touching the wound. "Never. Ever. Again."

"Lieutenant Sen is still recovering from that dislocated shoulder you gave him. I doubt you'd find a weaker swing on the entire airship." She stepped over and tore back the fabric of his tattered pants to inspect the injury. His knee was bleeding and already bruising, swelling up fast. "Broken," she announced.

"Ya _think_?" He squeezed his thigh and gave her a halfhearted scowl.

"The damage is minimal. You'll be back on your feet, terrorizing my crew again in no time."

They both blinked at the layer of implications and she could see him trying hard to decode her intent, which was humorous, since she wasn't sure what she'd meant by it. The odds of him still being aboard her ship by the time he healed were slim. Death, rescue, escape, exchange, ransom - there were so many ways he could leave, and none of them particularly appealed to Azula right then.

He stared up at her, contemplative despite the fresh agony, and she couldn't help but admire his tolerance. "So where does this put us?"

She brushed a stray strand of hair back in place while she ordered her thoughts. "You saved me from drowning, I saved you from permanent dismemberment. We should be about even, no?"

He grinned and tried to hide his pain behind his usual joking mask. "Only if you don't count the rest of my _extensive _injuries."

"But you nearly destroyed my flagship. We're still flying at reduced power and it's going to cost a small fortune for repairs. That has to be worth as much as a few burns and bruises."

"Alright, but you captured me and you're holding me against my will."

"Oh really?" She folded her arms and tossed her head to the side, disrupting the same pesky strands of hair. "You could have easily escaped multiple times, already, if you'd tried. I think you let yourself be caught, and until I figure out your motives, it counts for nothing."

He snorted a laugh. "Oh yes, because I got bored one day and decided it would be fun to be captured and tortured by _you_."

"You say that as though you're not the most difficult prisoner I've ever had the misfortune to collect."

He let go of his leg with one hand and pushed up on his elbow, jutting his chin in a defiant grin. "You say that like you don't love the challenge."

"I don't love anything," she said, leaning in to make her point abundantly clear. She smiled wickedly and he grinned back, blue eyes locked with hers.

And then maybe because he was distracted by pain, or somehow thought it appropriate, he reached up to brush the wayward strands of her hair back into place. She caught his bruised wrist without thinking, and they stared at each other, exchanging a mutual look of shock and surprise.

"Your hair," he explained, lamely, when she didn't let go. She was hurting him, she could tell, but her brain was too busy trying to process what he had been about to do for her to even consider loosening her grip. They were close. Close enough that she could feel his breath rushing against her face and he was looking at her again, with the same sort of expectation he'd had at the riverside.

He swallowed, licked his lips, and slowly, gently, pushed against her weakening hold, continuing in his foolish task of reaching for her displaced hair, and for some reason that Azula could not fathom, she was letting him.

His filthy fingers brushed against the perfect skin of her cheek just as the cell door gave a warning squeak. Azula didn't think. She twisted and shoved and Sokka slid off the table, crashing to the floor on the other side with a pained yelp.

"Princess!"

Her guards rushed into the room, loyal men all. Two of them hauled Sokka up and it was Sen who drove his armored fist into the prisoner's unprotected abdomen, rocking him with the blow.

"No!"

Everyone froze and turned to her and it was only then that Azula realized she'd spoken. Even Sokka, gasping for breath and helpless in the hands of his captors, had all his attention on her.

This was her chance, her moment to try and make things right between them.

"No," she said again, struggling to regain her bearing and doing everything she could to avoid meeting the wounded warrior's penetrating gaze. "That's enough. Just take him to his cell."

Sen gaped and clamped his mouth shut, giving her a strange look before he snapped his fingers. The guards ignored the stretcher and dragged Sokka out of the room, leaving a thin smear of blood behind. His eyes might as well have been glued to her and Azula allowed one moment of contact before he disappeared from sight.

She'd expected to see a little gratitude, but his expression was one of bewildered surprise and compliance, befitting a prisoner in his situation. But then something cracked in the mask he wore to hide his secrets from the world. The corner of his lip twitched, a smile not of appreciation, but of smug satisfaction and victory. Over _her_. And then he was gone.

Azula felt the heat drain from her face.

"Are you alright, Princess?" Sen asked, his voice softer than usual. She blinked and fixed him with her best intimidating stare, but it felt like a lie. _It was all a lie._

"I'm fine. He just surprised me."

An understatement, if ever there was one.


End file.
